


Not Without You

by dudesbeinggay



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal FH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudesbeinggay/pseuds/dudesbeinggay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s been missing for three days! He’ll die, Adam!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: "I'm sick of being useless" ruvic or grillems?
> 
> HAHA GRILLEMS PLS (though it’s a good prompt for ruvic too)
> 
> I tried. Takes place in Immortal FH GTA verse, where they each have only one way they can die permanently. 
> 
> TW for violence/torture. Idea is based on landfill (specifically nikki/funheist’s) gta au headcanons

_Day Three_

“I’m sick of being useless!”

“I know.”

“ _Fuck this,_ man! I can’t believe I ever let-” James put his head in his hands. He and Adam were sitting on the couch in their apartment.

“I’m sorry James.”

“He’s been missing for three days! He’ll  _die,_ Adam!” A sob ripped from James’s throat. He shut down after that, refusing to let any other emotions escape. Adam just sat there, a strong presence by his side. If Bruce died, James had no idea what he would do.

“He’ll be okay, James,” Adam said. He did believe it, but there was that underlying fear. What if they took it too far? They each had a weakness – that one way their immortality could be snatched from them – and for Bruce a beating would do it. They just had to get him back before that happened.

* * *

_Day One_

“So Greene, you got any juicy gossip for us today?” Some idiot in a suit and a ski mask was pacing in the basement he’d been thrown into – ugh, how cliché. Bruce’s head lolled, and it ached somethin’ nasty. By the way Bruce had to really work not to lose his lunch, he figured he was concussed.

The guy asked a multitude of questions, but Bruce just tuned him out. He had muscle, a guy in black jeans and a black t-shirt, punctuating each question with a punch or a kick. He’d had worse.

“What’s the most impressive heist you ever pulled off?”

“Tell me what you know about Geoff Ramsey.”

“What safe house did you use after your April heist?”

“That boy-toy of yours, James, he’s real pretty, eh?” That was the first comment that actually got a rise out of Bruce, who struggled against the ropes tying him to a basement pipe.

“Oh James? He gets your blood boiling, huh? Won’t it be sorry when he doesn’t come to save you.”

“They’re not coming, Bruce. They think you’re dead.”  _Thank fuck._ There was no way this guy knew Bruce’s one weakness, if he was threatening him with that. He wasn’t out of danger, but it was something. As long as the guys got to him soon, he’d be fine. If they fucking hurt James, though…

“…so yeah, you’re all ours.” Oh, was he still talking? What an ass.

Anger burned in the guy’s eyes when Bruce’s silence persisted. “Alright, well, if you’re not gonna cooperate I guess we’ll just have to make you.”

* * *

_Day Five_

Everything ached. There was not a single part of his body that was unblemished, untouched after the days following his capture. …he should’ve been scared. His brain wasn’t working all the way though, wasn’t making all the connections it was supposed to. At this point he was fairly sure it had been slammed against the pipe, and the wall, and the floor. Tiny lumberjacks were chipping away at his skull.

He spit out blood from his mouth as he came to. Bruce looked around, expecting his interrogator and someone else around so he didn’t have to get his hands dirty, but he was confused when knockoff-Slenderman and at least one of his various henchmen failed to materialize. What had woken him if not them?  _Fucking idiots._

Loud yells from upstairs – and was that gunfire? – only increased the sharp pain in his head, and he let it drop down, eyes falling shut. The sound of his heavy breathing echoed in the small space – Bruce’s body was just about ready for all this to be over.

More yelling. Wait- were they saying his name? It seemed to be getting louder, too. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut against the noise - not that it helped.

Everything went silent for a second. “Bruce!” He groaned. Well, at least the cavalry was definitely here.

“Can you…keepitdown?” Bruce slurred.

“Oh god, Bruce,” James sounded chocked up.

A hand came up and gently touched his face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby?”

* * *

James could barely think straight as they pulled up to the house. It was a fairly sized place in the shitty suburbs of the city. Totally nondescript – if Spoole hadn’t traced the complex tech web of the city there, they  _never_ would have found it. James was itching to finally do something, to move. Sleep had been elusive in the last five days for which Bruce had been missing, but he had plenty of energy that night.

Spoole had warned that Bruce might not be there – “I could be wrong,” he had said. James was sure they would find him there though, he knew that they were in the right place as well as he knew that he couldn’t live without Bruce. His stomach churned with fear that they would be to late.  

Adam took point, probably wise, as they entered the house. The next few minutes were a blur of flashes of gunfire and unintelligible yelling. The guys could be tactical, were one of the most precise crews around when they wanted to be, but that night they were out for blood.

“Bruce! Bruce!” James yelled. Every closed door he saw went down under his boots, and he followed that up with his assault rifle. The third door led into darkness, though James quickly made out stairs.

“Hey,  _guys, shut the fuck up_!” He yelled. They complied, thankfully, and James listened closely. He heard the faintest breathing coming from below.

“Bruce!” James shouted, pounding down the stairs.

He hastily found the light switch-  _Oh god._

James could barely recognize Bruce. Blood spilled from the whole right side of his head. James could barely see his face with his head bowed, but what he could see was swollen and bruised. His body followed; his shirt had been removed, and intense bruising along with rough-edged wounds covered his torso. His chest was barely moving as he breathed in and out.

“Can you…keepitdown?” Bruce sounded weak, and James dropped to his knees in front of him.  

Tears began to build in James’ eyes. “Oh god, Bruce.” The worry in his gut had only multiplied.

James lightly ran his hand across the least bruised part of Bruce’s face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby?”

Pain clouded Bruce’s expression. Bruce looked at James with wonder, but recognition too, and James felt a little bit better. When Bruce’s eyes started to flutter closed, James could only whisper, “Baby?” before they shut completely. Bruce’s entire body had gone lax.

 _“BRUCE!”_ James let out a raw scream. He fell against Bruce and hugged his body close, sobbing. “Bruce, please. Bruce, don’t do this.”

“Come on, James,” Adam said softly, hands on James's shoulders. “We have to go – we can still help him,” he insisted.

James knew that. He knew that they had to untie Bruce, get him help, get out of there before the cops showed up. It didn’t matter. Every muscle in his body was locked in place.

“Okay James, I’m sorry.” James felt new arms surround him. He let them rip him away from Bruce, cries going silent in that dreary concrete space. His body totally out of his own control, he let himself go limp in Lawrence’s arms.

“Come on, James.” Lawrence sounded sad. James stared ahead, unmoving. All of that had taken place within seconds, but it felt like hours. James wasn’t sure what happened next – when he came to he was in the passenger seat of Adam’s SUV, hurtling down the highway.

Adam’s yelling pierced through to him – “Caleb, you  _don’t understand,_ he will die forever. Actually die.”

James gulped. What an unfortunate moment to come back to. He unthinkingly reached a hand out for Adam’s right, which was gesturing wildly. Adam glanced at him for a millisecond, but he laced their fingers together as he listened to Denecour through the speaker.

Caleb was an experienced medic within the Los Santos underground, but Funhaus rarely worked with him – owing to their immortality. Caleb had found out – one of the handful of people who knew – when Matt had gone down during a heist and flat-lined on his table, only to come back breathing minutes later. “You’re telling me-”

“YES!” Adam shouted, and the sound reverberated through James.

“Alright, I’ll get a team together and we’ll meet you.”

* * *

Bruce came back to consciousness slowly. It smelled like antiseptic, but also like home. 

Bruce took stock of his body. He was- _wow, he was in a fuck ton of pain._ Bruce’s eyes shot open. There was Joel standing guard, Lawrence in the room as well. “Joel,” Bruce whispered, voice barely audible – his throat hadn’t appreciate the screaming, he supposed.

“Bruce!” Joel moved to Bruce gently. Bruce saw the second Joel noticed the tears pricking at the corner of Bruce’s eyes, the pain he imagined was on his face.

“Lawrence, get the morphine,” Joel said, eyes still on Bruce.

Teeth gritted, Bruce asked, “How long?”

“Four days.”

 _Holy shit._ Joel looked like he could collapse right there with relief, but the bags under his eyes, the residual stress in his posture, were unmistakable.

Lawrence returned and attached something to Bruce’s IV. IV? He looked at Joel questioningly.

“It was real bad, Bruce. We had to call in Denecour, you…” Joel looked to the side, and Bruce noticed another figure in the room.  _How had Bruce missed him?_

It was James, sitting in a chair next to the bed. James with what was clearly four-day stubble, almost a beard. James with dark circles under his eyes and pale skin; his cheeks even looked sunken in.

James, who was staring straight at Bruce – empty. Like Bruce wasn’t even there.

 _No_ , Bruce thought, physical pain fading but emotion collapsing his chest in.  _I just got back, James can’t be broken, he can’t._

He turned back to Joel for a second. “What happened, Joel?” His voice was gravelly. “What were you going to say?”

The quietest voice Bruce had ever heard out of James jumped in. “You flat-lined,” he whispered. “You flat-lined twice.”

Bruce wanted to cry. Not for him, but for James, for all of them. The only one they had almost lost to that point had been Lawrence, and it had been devastating. For James and Bruce…because it was always James and Bruce, Bruce and James…he could barely imagine.

“ _James…_ ” Bruce looked right at him, desperately hoping James would meet his eyes. Just to see those blue eyes again-

_Bruce struggled to hold his head up and follow James’ command – “Open your eyes for me, baby.” When he did he saw the most beautiful eyes in the world staring back at him. If he should die, he hoped it was looking into those baby blues. Bruce drank in the sight for as long as he could before his injuries were just too much, and he felt his body go limp as the world faded out once more._

“Bruce?”

James had materialized a foot in front of Bruce, eyes alert. He was looking at Bruce searchingly. “Bruce, please.” At least he’d found his voice, however distraught. Bruce must’ve spaced out.

“I’m okay, James.” He looked straight at James’s eyes, straight into his soul. He’d missed him so much. Missed just being around him.

Once again James was frozen. “Are you okay?” Bruce probed cautiously. He leaned up to touch James’s face lightly with his hand. Bruce hoped he wasn’t doing any further damage to himself, but he didn’t feel anything, and some things were more important than that, anyway.

James reached up and seized Bruce’s hand against his face like it was the only thing tying him to earth.

Color returned to James’s face as they just stared at each other. A minute ticked by, and Bruce saw a glint appear in James’s eyes. 

“You  _motherfucker!”_ He yelled, the sound cracking through the room. Bruce jerked in surprise; James then draped himself over Bruce carefully. “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he said into Bruce’s chest.

“I’ll try.” Bruce wanted to hug James in tight, but he physically couldn’t, so he pushed James up gently so they were eye to eye.

“I’m sorry, James.” He put the full force of his emotions behind the statement.

Bruce felt James take a deep breath against his chest. “I can’t lose you, Bruce,” James said, matter-of-fact.

“You won’t,” Bruce promised. James tilted his head, and Bruce snatched the opportunity to lean up for a kiss. James’s lips were soft, if chapped. He could  _smell_ the vague scent of James not having taken care of himself the past few days.  

He pulled away reluctantly. “You kinda smell,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

James’s eyes were filling with tears, but he smiled through them. “You suck,” he said, voice wobbly. 

Pain was making itself known to Bruce, and he reluctantly pressed at James. “You gotta get off.” 

James jumped back immediately. “Are you…” James didn’t bother finishing the question; Bruce clearly wasn’t alright. But he would be. 

“Sit here,” Bruce said, patting the bed next to him. James crawled over and sat, careful of Bruce’s injuries. James couldn’t lie, there were still tears threatening to fall, and that feeling in his heart that had appeared when he’d found Bruce hadn’t faded. 

Bruce noticed James shaking a bit. His head was starting to go fuzzy, but he turned to face James. “Are  _you…_ gonna be okay?”

James swallowed, and one glistening tear slipped down his face. “I can’t do this if it means you’ll die, Bruce. We can fucking play video games for the rest of our lives in this apartment.” 

Tears continued to fall; James just refused to acknowledge them. He looked at Bruce like he’d have some sort of answer. 

Bruce wanted nothing more than to offer physical comfort to James then, and it made his skin itch that he couldn’t. “I’m so sorry, James.” 

“Sorry isn’t enough Bruce. I know it isn’t your  _fault,_ but you  _died._ You  _actually died,_ and if not for Caleb you would be gone. Forever,” he said, the last word half-sobbed. 

“I won’t leave you,” Bruce said. “I love you as much as you love me. As long as you never let me go, I’ll never let you.” This time, James believed him. 

“Now go take a shower and come back here and  _sleep,_ dumbass.” 


End file.
